*
TT^TI A CTV'CI]T This Is a Thrilling Story
\Jlf rn* n I I I l"! ri I A of American Life as Strong,
▼ ▼ ^ r ^ A JJ A-i Courageous Men Live It
By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY and CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY, Jr.
Author and Clergyman Civil Engineer Copyright by Fleming h. Reveil Co.
YOUNG BERTRAM MEADE LEARNS IN A FRIGHTFUL EX
PERIENCE JUST HOW MUCH HELEN ILLING
WORTH MEANS TO HIM
The M irtlet Construction Company is building a great interna
tional bridge planned by Bertram Meade, Sr„ a famous engiueer. His
•oti. Bertram Meade. Jr., resident engineer at the bridge, is in love
with Helen Illingworth, daughter of Colonel Illingworth, president of
the company. Young Meade questioned his father's judgment on the
strength of certain important steel beams in the gigantic structure
bat was laughed to scorn. He still has private doubts, though out
wardly agri-eing with his elder.
CHAPTER li—Continued.
—2—
n spite of herself the woman looked
him.
But now?" she whispered as he hes
'.ed. and then she turned her head
f fearful of his auswer.
I aui almost afraid to say it." he
t lowering his voice to match her
1.
A soldier of steel." she said, “and
aid!
Well. then, all that was the second
r takes the third place."
And before your father comes?”
tut she did not give him time to an
rr. "Come." sae said, “let us go out
the bridge."
It's a rough place for you. Those
e slippers you wear—"
le looked down, and as If In obedi
e to hla glance she outthrust her
t from her gown. It was not the
sliest foot that ever upbore a wom
Quite the contrary. Which Is not
lng It was too large, not at all. It
• Just right for her height and tig
. and Its shape and shoe left noth
to be desired.
»ver mind the slippers." she said;
ry are stronger than they look,
•y’ll serve."
But the distance between here and
■ bridge Is Inches deep In dust.”
Dust!" she exclaimed in dismay,
don't mind rough walking, but
t—"
l never thought of that." admitted
man. “The fact Is I have thought
nothing but you since I saw you.
now we'll have to go back or—”
I shall not go back." she answered
dj
_e stepped down off the platform,
before she km w- what he would be
• he lifted her straight up in his
He did not carry her like a
•y. he held her erect, crushed
slist his breast, and before she had
; to utter a protest, or even to say
’ord. he started through the dusty
Iway toward tie bridgehead.
was • strange position. She knew
' ought to protest, hut the words
Id not come. Whilst she was try
to think them up, they had crossed
1 little d- sert that Intervened Ite
.«-n the p>>rtal oi the bridge and the
( of the platform. Then he set her
,n gently.
Thank you,” she said simply, “that
very nice of you. You are won
fully strong."
fie moon, by this time, had pussed
floor level and the cross-bracing
a network of shadows over them,
_i track aad floor beams and string
- The silence of the half-light, the
.tery of it all oppressed them a
V. It was with beating heurts that
• pressed on.
CHAPTER III.
Fall and Revelation.
t’a rather confused in here,” said
man. "but we will soon get out
•rd the end and then the view is
-ni ft cent. You cun see up and down
i river for miles and the night boat
t be along in a few minutes.”
ysu't that Itr isked the woman,
"jig up the river to where a clus
Ugilts rounded a huge bend not
•way, and sw ung out in midstream,
‘tea.” said the man. "If we listen I
t-|k we can hear her."
both stop|>ed and. sure enough,
tljr across the water came the
’ e of clanklug paddles of the big
ir strainer. With that sound also
J gled the song of the uight wind,
a wonder comparatively gentle,
“inf strange, weird harmonies us It
■d through the taut and rigid liars
e teei. She ttateoiid euchuuted with
.sound. '
ne big floor beams extended from
* aide to the other of the bridge.
“ een tbe trusses at intervals of
* feet. At rigid angles to them and
U'eet apart, the stdngers ran length
en parallel to the trusses. Here and
pirees <>f limiter falsework had
*1 thrown across tbe stringers for
"convenience of the workmen, but
^hese two slowly Moved toward mld
aatn at Inst these pieces became
ti-r. and flnaiiy there was nothing
i e seen i>ut the heavy floor (teams
°* the lighter stringers.
J*Tier they passed ihe top of the pier
? got iteyond the small space of
_r bank on which the pier was set.
K<- was nothing between them and
n, water. now moonlit a ml quivering.
#j>t these cross-girtlers of steel on
fevr hand beyond the planking in the
k>.
®ln\e you a clear head?” asked the
-I nn-an d>**s it utTect you to
*§oo high etevations? Do you get
g never have.” was »be answer.
H think Hi bold you.” was tbe reply.
Se grasped her firmly hy the arm.
B> wrap she arms wearing over
Iders did not cover her arms,
is a bare arm that he took in
your pardon, ” he said quick
>*xn't matter. I understand.
Id better bold me. I might
g
A
slip." There was something electric
and compelling in the pressure of his
strong hand upon the Arm flesh of her
round arm. She shrank closer to him,
again unthinkingly, by a natural im
pulse.
The moon was now well clear of the
brow of the highest hill. Its yellow
was turning to silver and in its cold
and beautiful Illumination the whole
river flowed bright beneath them. Ev
ery inch of tlie bridge was now clearly
revealed in the white, passionless light.
Fifty feet away it ended in the air.
They were now almost directly be
neath the traveler, near the end of the
suspended span. Its huge legs sprawled
out like those of a gigantic animal on
the extreme edges of the bridge on ei
ther side above their heads. The wood
en platform on the track ran out half
the distance to the bridge end. Slowly
the two walked along It until but a
few feet were left between them and ;
the naked floor beams und the string
ers carrying the ties to which the rails
were bolted and the planks laid.
By the side of the track on the top '
of the stringers had been placed a pile
of material surmounted by a large flut
plate of steel, which lay level upon it.
It was triangular in shape, the blunt
point inward. The base which was
about six feet wide paralleled the
course of the river. The plate on the |
top of the pile was raised about three I
f*-et above the level of the truck. They
stopped abreast of it.
“Can’t we go any further?" asked ;
the girl in low tones, still close to the
young n 'in, who still lightly clasped
her arm.
“I'm afraid it wouldn’t be safe to
g<> any farther,” he said.
“I want to see the steamer. It will
pass directly under the bridge.”
“They have no business to pass un
der the bridge.” said Meade. “They’ve
been warned hundreds of times und or
ders have beeu issued. There is al
ways danger that something might
fall."
“Why can't I stand up there?”
“On that gusset plate?”
“Is that what you call It?"
“Ves. it bears the same relation to
structural steel that a gusset does to
a woman’s dress."
“Exactly. But can't I stand on it?”
“Wait," he answered.
He climbed to the center of it. lifted
himself up and down on his feet to test
it. and found It solid apparently.
“I think so. but I shall have to put
you up.” he said at last as he lifted
her up and set her down on her feet in
the middle of ihe plate of steel.
“Oh, there comes the steamer,” she
cried. “I can see it beautifully from
here.”
“Be careful. You must not move.
Stand perfectly steady. I am not so
sure of that plate.” He reached over
from where he stood on the truck be
low her and by her side and gathered
the material of her dress in an iron
grasp.
“I do not think that is necessary,”
she said. “This plate seems as solid as
the rest of the bridge and—oh, there’s
the steamer! She’s right under us.”
The big river cruft was tilled with
light and laughter. The wind fortu
nately blew the smoke away from the
bridge so that they had a clear and
perfect view of her. There was a band
playing aboard her. They heard the
music above the beat of the whirling
paddles, the song of the rising wind.
The passengers were congregated
about the rails on the upper decks
staring upward. The bridge was as
fascinating to them as it was to the
people ashore evidently.
"How interesting,” said the delight
ed girl. “Why don’t you come up here
yourself, you can see so much better?”
1 he man had dropped her gown, lift
ed his right foot to the pile on the
stringers to follow her suggestion.
Thoughtlessly she stepped towifrd the
outer end to give him room, quite for
getful of his caution. Before he could
complete his step or warn her of the
danger. It now bent forward. It tilted
distinctly. In spite of herself, Helen
Illingworth was carried still farther
forward ns she sought to regain her
balance. The piece of steel began to
slip downward, grating on the pile of
beams as it moved; another second
and it would be off and on its way ir
revocably.
Meade threw himself at the girl. He
lunged out and caught her just as she
was slipping downward with the plate
now almost i>erpendlcular. To catch
her he had to step to the very edge of
the planking beyond which the rails
run naked on the ties.
With a tremendous effort he caught
her by the waist, swung her up and in,
and stood fast on the brink quivering,
heaving himself desperately backward
as he sought to maintain his balance
and take the backward step that meant
safety.
A wild shout rose from the steamer
as the huge plate dropped, like the
blade of a mighty guillotine, straight
down through the air. If it had struck
the boat. It would have cut through
like a knife. Fortunately it cleared
the gangway by inches. In a second
it had disappeared. Screams, grouts,
arose from the boat which promptly
sheered off into midstream.
Helen Illingworth’s back had been
toward'Meade as he seized her. She
had seen as he had everything that
happened. Recovering himself at last,
he stepped back slowly, almost drag
ging her. uutil they were a safe dis
tance from the edge. His face was
ghastly white in the moonlight. Sweat
covered his forehead. He was shaking
like a wind-blown leaf.
“The whole world went black when
I saw you go.” he said slowly.
“L>o you care that much?" asked the
girl, trembling herself.
There was no necessity for maidenly
reticence now.
“Care?" said the man. “Care?”
“I’m all right now.”
“You are more fortunate than I. I
stood to lose you. you stood to lose
only life. Don’t you see? Can’t you
understand?”
Suddenly he swept her to his breast
as this time she faced him. She was
very near him and she did not make
He Lunged Out and Caught Her.
the slightest resistance. She had wait
ed for this hour and she was glad.
They hud faced death too nearly for
any hesitation now. She knew lie
loved her, and knew that he had
saved her at the imminent risk of his
own life. There had been swift yet
eternal moments when it seemed thut
both of them, trembling ou the brink,
would follow the downward rush of
the gusset plate. Now as he strained
her to him, she lifted her face to him,
glad that she was tall enough for him
to kiss her with so slight a bend of
the head.
There, under the great trusses of
steel, amid the huge, gaunt, massive
evidences of the power of the might,
of the mastery of man, two hearts
spoke to each other in the silence, and
told the story that was old before the
first smelter had ever turned the first
ore into the first bit of iron, before
Tubal Cain ever smote the anvil; the
story of love that began with creation,
that will outlast all the irou in all the
hills of the earth—that is as eternal
as it is divine!
After that wild embrace, that first
rapturous meeting of lips, lie released
her slightly, though he still held her
closely and she was quite content.
“I’m quite calm now,” he began,
“that is, I am as composed as any man
could be who is holding you in his
arms. But if it had not been for me,
you would never have been in danger.
It was my fault. I should have made
sure. I shall never forgive myself.”
"But if I hud not been in danger I
might not now be here in your arms.
And if I were not here,” she went on
swiftly, too happy in her love to be
mindful of anything else, "I certainly
would not be doing—this."
And of her own motion she kissed
him in the moonlight.
“And if you were not doing this,”
said he, making the proper return, “I
might not have had the courage to tell
you.” *
“You haven’t told me anything—In
words,” she answered, fain to hear
from his lips what she well knew from
the beating of his heart.
“It’s not too lnte then to tell you
that I love you. that I nm yours. To
give myself to you seems to be the
highest possibility in life, if you will
only take me.”
“And do you love me more tlinn the
bridge?”
“More than all the bridges in the
world, past, present and to come; more
than anything or anybody. I tell you
I never knew what love was or what
life was until I saw you sliding to your
death. If I had not succeeded I should
have followed you.”
“I felt that, too,” she answered
dreamily.
“We must go back, dearest," he said
at last. “I am so fearful for you even
now that I am almost unwilling to try
it. Every time I glance down through
these Interspaces between the string
ers my blood runs cold,”
“You supported me before; I will
support you now,” laughed the woman,
woman.
“No,” snid the man, ‘“we will go to
gether.”
They turned toward the shore. He
took her hand and slipped his other
arm about her just as simply and nat
urally as If they had been any humble
lover and his lass In the countryside.
By and by they got to the end of the
bridge. Far down the platform they
could see the lights of the car.
“Listen,” she said as they walked
slowly along. “You must not tell fa
ther anything about this little acci
dent.”
“I obey, but why not?"
“It would only worry him, and it
was my fault.”
“No, mine.”
“I will not hear you say it.”
“But I must speak to your father
about—”
“And the sooner the better; he is in
good humor with you and the bridge
now. I have heard him speak well of
you. I believe he will be glad to give
me to you.”
“And if not?”
“I should hate to grieve my father,
but—”
She turned and looked at him in the
moonlight, her glorious golden head,
her neck, her shoulders, her arms bare
and beautiful in the celestial illumi
nation. He seized her hand and lifted
it to his lips as a devotee, and she un
derstood the reason for the little touch
of old-world formality and reserve,
when naught but his will prevented
him from taking her to his heart and
making her lips, her eyes, her face, his
own.
“Now may God deal with me as I
deal with you,” he said fervently, “if I
ever fail at least to try with all my
heart and soul and strength to measure
up to your sweetness and light.”
“My prayer for myself, too,” she
whispered..
"You need it not.”
“You must wait here,” she said,
deeply touched, as they had now
reached the steps of the car, “until I
have changed my dress; father would
notice — unybody would — that tear.
When I have finished I will come back
to you and then we will seek him and
tell him.”
Accordingly Meade stood obediently
waiting outside the car in the shadow
it cast. There was no one about. The
servants had gone to bed. The porter
of the car was nodding in his quarters,
waiting for the time to turn out the
lights. The engineer had the long
platform all to himself. After a time
he chose to walk quietly up and down,
thinking. The future looked very fair
to him.
“Bert,” a sweet voice came to him
out of the darkness. He turned to dis
cover her standing in the door of the
car dressed as she should have been
for such an excursion had she at first
followed her father’s wise suggestion.
His heart thrilled to the use of the fa
miliar name. “Bert, I’m coming down
to you.”
Hand in hand they walked to the
rear of the car, where the observation
platform was still brightly lighted. Ab
bott had gone and the other three men
were on their feet. They were about
to separate for the night, although it
was still rather early.
"Futher,” said his daughter out of
the darkness.
“Oh, you're there^’ answered the
colonel. “I wondered when you were '
coming back. I was just thinking of
going to fetch you. Is Mr. Meade—2”
“I’m here, sir.”
“Gbod night, gentlemen.” said the
colonel as the others turned away,
leaving him alone on the platform.
He came to the edge and leaned over
the brass railing.
“Are you two going to make a night
of it?” he asked jocosely.
“Colonel Illingworth,” began Meade.
“Father,” said his daughter at the
same time, “we have something to say
to you.”
Colonel Illingworth opened the gate,
lifted the platform, and descended the
steps.
“Here I am,” he said as he stopped
by the two.
His daughter took him by the arm
and they walked down the platform so
as to be out of any possible hearing
from the car.
“Now,” she said to Meade, who fol
lowed her.
His heart was beating almost ns rap
idly as it had on the bridge, and for
exactly the same reason—fear of los
ing her. He tried to speak.
“Well, young man?” said Illing
worth, flicking the ashes from his cigar
and wishing to get it over, “you said
you had something to say to me.”
“It’s a very hnrd thing to say, sir.”
He looked helplessly at the girl, but
she was speechless. It was his task.
If she were not worth asking for, she
was not worth having, she might have
said. “Well, sir,” he began desperate
ly, "I love your daughter, Helen. I
want to marry her.”
“Umph,” said the colonel, “I sup
posed as much. How long have you
and Helen known each other?”
“Over a year, sir, but I loved her
from the very moment I saw her. 1
did not dare hope. I didn’t dream, I
never imagined, and strange as it may
seem, sir, she—seems to love me.”
“Of course I do,” said Helen, realiz
ing that it was now high time for her
to come to the rescue of her lover,
“and so would any other woman.”
“You know, of course, that while I
am not rich, I am not poor, and I can
support my wife in every comfort, sir,”
urged the man. greatly relieved by the
woman's prompt avowal.
“She’ll need a few luxuries besides.
I’m thinking.”
“Yes, of course, sir, I'll see that she
gets them. This bridge is going to
make us all famous, and I shall have
my father’s influence and—”
“When the bridge is finished,” said
the colonel decisively, “come to me and
you shall have my daughter."
"Oh, father, the bridge won’t be fin
ished for—” began the girl.
“I understand, sir,” answered the en
gineer, too happy at her father’s con
sent to make any difficulties over any
reasonable conditions he might Impose.
“Yes, Helen, it’s all right; your father
Is right. This Job’s got to be done be
fore I—”
“Oh, don’t say before you tackle an
other,” protested the girl, half disap
pointed, and yet seeing the reasonable
ness of both men, while the colonel
luughed grimly.
“That’s about the size of it," said the
old man, “no matter how you put It.
One thing at a time. Meade, I don’t
know anybody on earth I would rather
have for my son-in-law than a clean,
honest, able American with a record
like yours. A man who can look me
in the eye awl grasp me by the hand,
like this.”
He put out his hand as he spoke.,
Meade’s own palm met it and the two
men shook hands unemotionally but
firmly, after the manner of the self
restrained. practical American, who is
always fearful of a scene and does not
wear his heart upon his sleeve. The
colonel threw away his cigar, slipped
his arm around his daughter’s waist,
kissed her softly on the forehead.
“I hate to lose you, Helen. I hate to
give you up to anyone. We have been
very happy together since your mother
died, leaving you a little girl to me;
but it had to come, I suppose, and per
haps I shall be glad in the end. Good
night, Meade. You will be coming in
presently. Helen?”
He turned and walked away as they
answered him. Th§y watched him go
slowly with bended head. They
watched him climb, rather heavily, up
the steps to the car—that he was an
old man seemed rather suddenly borne
In upon them. He stood for a moment
in the light, smiling, remembering, and
then turned and marched within the
car. He switched the light out as he
passed down the corridor.
“Wasn’t he splendid?” said Helen,
when she had time to breathe and free
dom to speak.
“One of the finest old men on earth.
He and father would make a great
team.”
“I was interested in the bridge, be
fore,” said the woman, “but think how
I shall watch it now. You must write
me every day and tell me every inch
that you have gained.”
“Trust me, I'll measure it in milli
meters."
“And now, sweet love, good night,”
she whispered. And she laughed as
she looked back at him through the
door.
CHAPTER IV.
The Deflection in the Member.
Three days after the departure of
the Illingworth party the young en
gineer fell 111 with follicular tonsilitis,
which is about the meanest small thing
that can lay a strong man low. He
fretted over his enforced absence from
the work and In the end had to pay for
that very fretting, for he got up too
soon and went out too quickly, and was
promptly forced to bed again as a con
sequence of his impatience.
Now, after a week’s confinement in
his cabin, he felt strong enough to ven
ture out again and to attack his prob
lems. They were personal problems
now, much more Intimate than before,
for he was building not only the bridge
but weaving in its web of steel his own
future happiness.
Of course he had been able to get
out on the rough porch of his galvan
ized iron shack where he had the
bridge in full view, and the day before
he had even walked unsteadily down to
the river bank, where he had been
equally surprised and delighted at the
progress that had been made. Abbott
was a driver after his own heart. Real
ly things seemed to have gone on just
as well without him as if he had been
on the job. He had not been lonely in
his illness, for all of the chief men con
nected with the construction had done
their best to beguile the tedium of his
hours by visiting him whenever they
could spare the time.
Abbott had been especially kind in
his somewhat rough-and-ready way.
The big construction superintendent
was fond of Meade, although he un
dervalued him. lie regarded him more
as a theoretical thah a practical man
and the inevitable nntngonism between
the theorist and the practical mnn,
when they are not combined in one per
sonality. was latent in Abbott’s heart.
"When the Bridge I* Finished."
Nightly, he brought to Meade details
of the progress of the work. That eve
ning, just before leaving, he remarkim|
in the most casual manner In (be world,
as if it were a matter of little or no tm
portance, that C-IO-H was a I ride nut
of tine.
Now C-10-II was the biggest member
of the great right hand Inis* on the
north side of the river. It consisted
of four parallel composite webs, each
formed of several plates of steel riv
eted together These webs were mu
neeted across their upper „ml hover
edges by diagonal latliving made of
steel angle bars. C-10-R end Its parallel
companion member, C-IO-L, in the left*
hand truss, carried the entire weight
of the cantilever span to the shoe rest
ing on the pier. These members were
sixty feet long and five feet wide. The
webs were over four feet deep and in
size and responsibility the great struts
were the most important of the whole
structure.
To say that OlO-R was out of line
meant that it had buckled, or bent, or
was springing, and had departed from
that rigid rectangularlty and parallel
ism which was absolutely necessary to
maintain the stability and immobility
of the truss and the strength of the
bridge. To the theorist nothing on
earth could be more terribly por
tentous than such a statement,
if it were true. To the prac
tical man, who, to do him justice, had
never dealt with such vast structures—
and he was not singular in that be
cause the bridge was unique on ac
, count of its size—the deflection noted
meant little or nothing.
“Good God!” exclaimed Meade,
aflame on the instant with anxious ap
’ prehension. The night was warm and
'he was dressed in his pajamas and had
been lying on the bed. As if he had
been shocked into action he sat up. for
getful of his weakness. “Deflection !"
he fairly shouted at Abbott, who re
garded him with half-amused astonish
ment, “a camber in C-10-R? Why
didn’t you tell me?”
By this time Meade had got his feet
into his slippers and was standing
erect.
“It isn't enough to make any differ
ence,” answered Abbott quickly, per
haps a little disdainfully.
“It makes all the difference on
earth,” cried Meade. “It means the
ruin of the bridge.”
He reached for his jacket, hanging
at the foot of the bed, and dragged it
on him.
“Don’t worry about it, youngster.’
said Abbott rather contemptuously, al
though he meant to be soothing. “I’m
going to jack it into line and—here,”
he cried as Meade bolted out of the
door, “you’d better not excite yoursell
that way. Come back to bed, man.
and—’’
How young Meade faces a
great crisis and what he does in
trying to avert serious trouble
is told in a thrilling chapter in
the next installment.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
_
FORGET DATE HAS CHANGED
That So Many Forgot to Write “1917*
Proves That Man Is Creature
of Habit
“That man is a creature of habit*
remarked the secretary of a large busi
ness firm, “is amply demonstrated bj
the letters we receive. This lettei
which I hold in my hnnd contains an
i error generally made at this time ol
the year, hot because the writers are
careless but because they have culti
vated the habit of writing a cerfair
thing mechanically.
“During the life of the year now ex
pired the writers had grown accus
tomed to putting down the numerals
1916. Doubtless at first it required ef
fort on their part to bear in mind thal
the last figure of the set was 6 and nol
5, but after a time the writing of (
became a mechanical act rather than i
a mental act. It became second na
ture for them to write the date cor
rectly.
“With the birth of a new year, how
ever, the mechanical writers must ex
ert mental effort. When they don't
they err. Take this case, for instance
You see the writer has turned oui
what he considers a perfect letter. H«
probably reread it and sealed it satis |
fled that it was correct. But he nevei
thought to look at the date, at leasi
the year part of it. The result is that
instead of dating it January, 1917, h«
has dated it January, 1916. Just s
mechanical error, that’s all.
“A peculiar phase of the matter it
that the error is usually made by per
sons who write their own correspond
ence, especially in long hand. Stenog
raphers who are paid to write the cor
respondence of others on typewriter! ]
have developed the habit of being ae
curate."
To Protect Moose.
The secretary of agriculture al
Washington has issued the following
amendment to the regulations for the
protection of game in Alaska, with the
object of protecting moose and moun
tain sheep on the Kenai peninsula and
adjoining region in Alaska, the New
York Herald says:
“The sale of carcasses or parts
thereof of moose and sheep in the re
gion south of latitude 62 degrees north
and between longitude 141 degrees west
and the western outlet of Lake Clark,
in longitude 155 degrees west, or the
shipment of carcasses or parts thereof
of said animals for sale from Anchor
age, Seward or other points on the
Kenai peninsula, is hereby prohibited
until October 1, 1018, and no carcasses
or parts thereof of said animals shall
be accepted for shipment to other
points in Alaska unless accompanied
by affidavit of the owner that they
were not purchased and are not In
tended for sale."
That Broad Expanse.
“I toll you, gentlemen." said the
groat explorer to the crowd In the
hotel smoking room, who were listening
breathlessly, "you can't Imagine what
things nrv like out lu the Arctic re
gions."
"Oh. I don't know," said one. "Keen
If we haven't soon It. v\o can Imagine
what tt feels like."
"l doubt tt. It's Impossible until
you've seen It; until you've stood
there, a small, insignificant atom, sur
rounded by vast stretches of white_"
"Yea. l know. I've boon like that."
"Really? Where was It, may l ask?"
"Klrst time l appeared In public in a
dress shirt."
A Suggestion.
"Sal, there ought to be some way
to matte the game laws apply to wom
en's shopping?" ,
"Mow do you moan?"
"There ought to i** some cloeed auu
!*ott for this bargain hunting."
MOTHER! LOOK K
CHILD'S TONG
If cross, feverish, const :
give “California Syr^s
, of Figs ”
A laxative today saves ,•
tomorrow. Children simp ■
take the time from play to e
bowels, which become cle_„'
waste, liver gets slug:; -h
sour.
Look at the tongue. m<.r>
ed, or your child Is li^• 1»»- -
erish, breath bad, rest I- "
heartily, full of cold or h; •
or any other children s
teaspoonful of “Calir
Figs,” then don't wor
perfectly harmless, and
all this constipation pei-.m.
and fermenting waste \
move out of the bow. nr !
a well, playful child _ • >
ough “inside cleansing
that is necessury. It
first treatment given in :
Beware of counterf. .• r .
Ask at the store for a .V
“California Syrup of Fig
full directions for babl. -
all ages and for grow-i
printed on the bottle. Adv.
For every dollar a v ■
her dress she gets a-,
worth of show and 10 ..
comfort.
A Kidney Medicine
That Stands the Te:
I wish to state that in^he -
that I have 6old Dr. Kilmer'
Root I have never known < t a - : -
tomer who did not feel satisfied
results obtained from its li
vely favorably regarding >■■■■■
They always come back and
that in itself is a sufficient gu .:
value of the preparation in the r
whiciyit is intended. It is a -
ney medicine and I take happ :
dling and selling same.
Verv trulv \ ur
LIENHART PHARMA
C. J. Lien ha::
Dec. 24, 1915 Norman Net
Prove What Swamp-Root Will Do For V*
Send ten cent* to Dr. Kilmer A
Binghamton, N. Y., for a sample size :
tie. It will convince anyone 1 u w.
also receive a booklet of valuable
mation, telling about the kidneys an . . u
der. When writing, be sure and meet ill
this paper. Regular fifty cent anf ct»l
dollar size bottles for sals at all draj
stores.—Ade.
But He Gave Up His R o.
“It is the unexpected th. t 1
“Yes; Adam had no id.-u >t a
Eve.”
SKIN-TORTURED BABIES
Sleep, Mothers Rest After T-;a
With Cuticura—Trial Fre?
t Send today for free samp
cura Soap and Ointment and
quickly they relieve Itch.
skin troubles, and point t"
ment of baby rashes, ecr. i
ings. Having cleared ha ;
it clear by using Cuticur ;
Free sample each by n. i
Address postcard. Cut.I> • L.
Boston. Sold everywhere.—A. .
■ Serious.
“She's only flirting with !.
“It's more serious than that. I <aw
her looking up his rating."
Genuine
Cooperation
Assured
Nature often needs help
to keep the digestive
system in a normal condi
tion, and with the aid of
HOSTETTER’S
Stomach Bitters
you are able to provide the
co-operation Nature requires.
IbI?bwer^sellers
HOGSa-SHEtP STOCK YARDSOHAhA >
kla no more iMcntiry
than Smallpox. Amy
experience heldmocim:-»
the airnoft tniraai.rtui efSL
arr. and herm’eamax at Antityphoid Vaccinac-m
Be vsrcinited NOW By yoor physician. you and
your family. It Is nnt vital than boose Ina.-axe.
Aik yuui physician, druggist, or teal for m
W» Bnd Typhoid!" telling of Typhoid fa
rvrula tram um, and dangen from Typhoid Carrier*.
Produela* Vaetlam aid Seram aider U. S. Ueema
TBe Carter Lakeratary. Berkeley. Cal.. Ckleaae. HL
ECZEMAS
Monet hark without question
If HUNT S ITRK fails In th.'
treatment of ITCH. KC7.KMA .
KINU WORM,TKTTKR or other I
Itching shin diseases. Price *
NX' at druggists, or direct from
i I * •ii’tt Mtt'tiM Ca.Skenan.t.l
•am.
mantka of m-nt
Balia to mikai, daodraC.
_ FwR«M«CaL>ru<l
BMa^raOnrocFiMHu,
**a. and %\ a at rnit •: v
NEW PENSION LAWS
ItaltAtt WAifc'QVto M|. *urt tiers wh] ««
f** wWs'irm At*s> ftuwrr w Mow* uv >* * a* ,. s ,
HUjg&fiaQStf^Sg
1 PATENTS gn&^sss